


a challenge

by captainamericagf



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drinking, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 09:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13478214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainamericagf/pseuds/captainamericagf
Summary: There’s two things you know about Scrapper 142.





	a challenge

There’s two things you know about Scrapper 142.

1\. She could easily win against any fighter in the arena.  
   
2\. She could easily out drink anyone on Sakaar.

There’s two things Scrapper 142 knows about you.

1\. You pick fights.  
   
2\. You are always up for a challenge.

And that’s how you’re currently trying to prove that you’re better than her at _something._ She’s already bested you in battle – it must be those Asgardian genes, though you know deep down that she’s simply the better fighter. She’s clearly trained, maybe she had once been a warrior? But then came the drinking and years of tolerance clearly made her better.

The others are cheering you both on as she downs the drinks faster than you can even pick them up. When she finishes you concede and she throws you a wink before going off to be congratulated by the others, leaving you to clean up the mess.

She finds you later, a couple of passed out customers on the floor of the bar as you try to maneuver around them.

“Nice job you did there,” she tells you. She’s got another bottle of alcohol in her hand and she takes a swig from it.

“Thanks,” you say. “You didn’t do so bad yourself.”

She smiles, amused. You can’t help but notice how pretty her smile is, how it lights up her eyes that often go dark when she thinks no one is looking.

“I don’t think anyone has ever lasted as long as you have.” She eyes the bruises you’ve been nursing since the fight. It was good-natured at the very least. Neither of you intended to gravely injure the other, just knock the other onto the floor. There’s a flash of something on her face, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. “I think you deserve a drink for that.”

It’s a little funny, you think, that she’s awarding you for being a loser, but you’ll take anything that’s free. Not to mention there’s something about her that makes your stomach flop. It’s been that way for a while, and facing her one on one proved harder than you imagined.

You both take seats at the counter while the bartender brings over a bottle of something that’s sizzling. He brings over two glasses, but she brushes them off, taking out a knife to slice open the top.

There’s a daredevil look in her eyes as she offers you the bottle. She knows you won’t refuse and you quite like that she knows you well enough. So, naturally, you take the bottle and ignore the burns that will inevitably blister and take a drink.

It’s like you just swallowed fire, but without any of the protective coating actual fire-eaters use in the parades. You’re left choking for a moment before the taste of it finally comes through. It’s…sweet. Sugary, almost. It’s like nothing you’ve ever had before.

Beside you Scrapper 142 laughs, a sound that makes your heart jump. She takes her own drink from the bottle and screws her eyes shut as the initial pain overtakes her, the pleasure coming soon afterwards.

You both break out in a sweat and you swear you’re going to die from the heat, but it’s soon after that you start to cool off and you’re left laughing too.

“How’s that for a challenge?” she asks.

You take a moment to catch your breath. “What the hell is that stuff?”

“It’s from this station not far from Xandar. Costs a fortune.”

And yet she shared it with you? It doesn’t exactly fit the woman you know. She mostly keeps to herself, making a few acquaintances here and there. She’s favored by the Grandmaster, but that’s never gotten to her head.

“I appreciate the gift,” you say. You’re not exactly what else to tell her. The two of you have never spoken much, so your image of her was always constructed of your own imagination beyond the two absolutes.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, her gaze landing on one of your bruises.

“I’ve had worse,” you say.

She raises an eyebrow and laughs. “No offense taken.”

You both take another drink and this time it goes down easier. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, but you get to talking. You end up doing most of it, lamenting about your time on Sakaar, how much you wish you could leave. She listens and drinks, like the two of you have been best friends for ages.

Ordinarily you’d be somewhat shy, to say the least. You’re much better at talking with your fists. You soon start to feel the regret of rambling on and on and on, your face heating up in embarrassment. You turn away, shrugging sheepishly. The bottle isn’t empty yet and you take another drink in hopes maybe your insecurities will drown in it.

She leans an elbow on the table, watching you. Has she always been this beautiful? Who are you kidding, of course she has. Everyone knows she’s the most beautiful woman on the planet and it suddenly hits you that she’s sitting next to you at a bar, watching you drink from an expensive bottle that _she_ offered to you.

“Why did you share this with me?” you ask suddenly.

She’s confused at first, looking at you like the answer is obvious. There’s a small smile that graces her lips, her eyes flicking down your own. “Because I like you, that’s why.”

Wait, what? You don’t know how long you stand there, dumbfounded. Scrapper 142 likes _you_? She could choose from anyone, even the Grandmaster’s best fighters, but instead _you_? Just an average scavenger who’s had more broken bones than anyone ever should?

It seems you’ve waited too long and now she’s turning away, eyes down like she’s embarrassed. She opens her mouth to speak, but you don’t let her. Instead you lean close and press your lips to hers. She parts hers slightly and you melt into her touch. Her lips are soft and mold against yours perfectly, like puzzle pieces fitting together. One of her hands snakes up your neck, fingers lacing through your hair.

When you pull back all you say is, “How’s that for a challenge?”


End file.
